


Blue Bastard

by BadDecisionsAndGoodWriting



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Cutesy, Five Nights at Freddy's 2, Mega Man - Freeform, Multi, Reader-Insert, Silly, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadDecisionsAndGoodWriting/pseuds/BadDecisionsAndGoodWriting
Summary: If you look at the first publication of Mega Man, you’ll see that it debuted on December 17, 1987. Even though canonically the restaurant closed by then, it’s still in 1987 and that warrants a fic! Starring you and the fnaf blue bastard: Toy Bonnie. And also, Mega Man. The video game. (Do you think I’ll piss off Mega Man fans with this?)





	Blue Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to get updates on stories, hear announcements on what I'm writing, any fanart for the fandoms I write for, or just want to keep up to date with me, please check out my tumblr at [ShirleyTheSpiderStar](https://shirleythespiderstar.tumblr.com/)! Because I cannot be sure that people are seeing what I have to say, like announcements, I'd encourage you to check out the link now and then so you can stay updated. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story.

“What’s so difficult about this!” Toy Bonnie screams at the screen, “Alllll you have to do is alllll you can do! Just—just shoot! For the love of God kill him—nOOOOOOOO!”

“Ha!” You say as you cuddle into him, “you aren’t as bitchin’ as you said you were!”

He grumbles wordlessly, clutching the controller damn near tight enough to break it, He doesn’t though. He knows that you paid a pretty penny for the system, money that he knows your stingy boss gave you in tiny trickles of dollars. Plus, if he breaks it he can’t play any more good games, ones that the pizzeria wouldn’t invest in even if it was the only way they could bring in customers. Most importantly if he breaks it he’ll prove to you that this game really is too hard for him, and he’s not losing under any circumstances. With that in mind, he begrudgingly starts the stage again in spite of how much stress this is causing his poor CPU.

Just seeing his clenched face with that robotic determination in his eyes reminds you of why you decided to buy this stuff in the first place. The official reason you bought not only Mega Man and the NES but also your TV was because he enjoys human culture so much. The real reason was that he always teases you, and you wanted to give him a little taste of his own medicine. Why else would you bring the game that caused you to cuss at your TV for hours instead of something like Mario? From the moment you picked the ugly box art up you just knew that it was something special, the perfect instrument to act out your petty revenge.

Snuggling into thick plastic isn’t exactly easy on you, so you lean back into the couch instead. His blundering throughout the levels isn’t as fun when he starts out anymore, so you busy yourself with taking in the room. The breakroom, if you didn’t know any better, could have been easily mistaken for a small living room. The wallpaper is themed like the rest of the pizzeria - multicolored spots against a white background with grey trim. The floor is carpeted, albeit with presumably the cheapest stuff they could find. The couch is probably the biggest red flag, as it resembles a plastic waiting chair more than a proper couch but it’s strong enough to support a heavy machine so you can’t really complain.

“Son of a—who coded this!” Bonnie says through his mechanical teeth, “I could’ve done this in my sleep and it would be teeeeen times better.”

“Are you giving up?” you say mischievously. “I had no idea a kid’s game could make you this pissed.” You smirk and casually look away, “I might have to start calling you little B.” 

Bonnie takes a short break from raging at the pixelated blue robot man and turns to you befuddled, “Little B?”  
You lean into one of his long bunny ears and whisper, “cause you a little bitch.”

Unusually for the two of you, you’re both quiet; the game doesn’t even make a beep to ruin the silence. You are a statue against him, frozen in place next to his comically large bunny ear. Admittedly, you’re a little worried about how he’s going to react to that quip. You’re well aware of what they do at night. His ear whops down onto the back of your head, cutting through the silence with a hard bop. You clutch your head as you reel back to the other side of the couch, metaphorical tail between your legs. No matter how unnecessary slapping you with his ear is, there is no way you’re going to admit how much that hurt.

“Ooohh, shit.” His face is twisted in as much regret as his coding will allow, “are you ok? Your face is a little—oh no, no you’re not. Come here, baby.”

Fuck, you think to yourself as he scoots towards you, I didn’t mean to look that pathetic. Pathetic you look indeed: you’re upright in the fetal position, your eyes are soft with unshed tears, your hands are in a death grip around the point of impact, even though you’re trying to put on a tough act you’re whimpering ever so quietly, and to top it off you can almost feel a bump forming on your skull. Truly you are the picture of toughness. 

Toy Bonnie coos about how he didn’t mean to hurt you as he hesitantly pulls you in for a hug. Despite his caring and confident demeanor, what just happened was terrifying to him. There are very few people out in the world that he would ever want to hurt, and you aren’t even in the vicinity of that list. The others, the old models and his friends, have no qualms about hurting a human (sometimes even each other) on a whim. He knows he’s a machine, and that he might as well be designed to kill, but that’s not who he is. That’s not even getting into how he suspects there’s a little more to him than just electricity and moving parts. All that just makes him squeeze you tighter, turning you into his anchor for the moment. 

Allegations of possible domestic abuse are at the back of your mind as you cuddle into your blue bon just like you do when he doesn’t hit you with his bizarrely strong rabbit ear. Although he barely shows it, his sudden clinginess is a clear sign of some kind of freak-out, that and the way he’s slowly dragging you under him. With difficulty, you worm one of your legs under one of his to cuddle closer to him. Your other leg is firmly planted on the ground so that neither of you can pin the other since that usually ends poorly for both parties. You run your hands across his smooth back: partially for comfort and partially because he’s squeezing you so close that you can’t really reach anywhere else. 

Oddly enough, even though he certainly isn’t hitting you with his ear on a daily basis, you find yourselves in this position quite often - him freaking out over something that happened that day and you cuddling into him for comfort. You never really considered yourself comforting or any sort of “rock” in a relationship before this, but you fit into the role quite nicely. Likewise, Bonnie never thought that he’d have a chance to show the part of himself he shows to you. The human-loving, caring, and deep bunny that he hides so carefully around everyone else. The fact that he happens to show that he’s also wildly confident, mischievous, and one to toy with others is hidden nearly just as well, but is far more common even when not around you. 

As your sweet nothings and intricate finger-drawn patterns ease his fears, that impish side leaks back into him. It speaks up in his mind and reminds him of where his hands are at the moment and where they very well could be. You’re too lost in thought to properly notice his cold hands travelling down south along your back. It’s much easier to notice, however, when he fondles your backside like he’s trying to knead dough. More surprised than offended you push him back to look him in the eye. 

“Did you… did you just… cop a feel?” You say with confusion in your words.

“Pfft, yeah! Whaaaaaat are you gonna dooooo about it?” He stares at you with a vexing look in his eyes and a sly smile.

Narrowing your eyes, you accept the challenge by slapping one of your hands onto his flat chest. Never one to be outdone, the Toy more calmly places his hand on your chest with his damnable smile never faltering. You respond with your other hand and he doubles up with his. The two of you are locked in a hard stare, no sound left in the room save for the gentle workings of the animatronics’ body. You’re the first to crack, soft giggles bubbling out of your chest which effectively breaks the illusion of you being anywhere close to mad. He follows right after, his laughter more a cool humming. You give him a smooch and he gladly returns it.

“Alright,” you stand up off the couch, “I think it’s my turn to play.”

“Whaaatever you say, babe,” Toy Bonnie replies smoothly as he moves to a more comfortable spot. “I doubt you’ll get much farther though.”

You scoff as you get into the most comfortable gaming position you can, “we’ll see about that.”

…

It only took around 5 minutes to clear the stage he was having so much trouble with and around 40 minutes to get the ones you’ve done so many times before. The only one left, aside from the end fight, is the one you actually have beef with. You’re running short on lives and the absurd difficulty isn’t helping, but you’re slowly getting there. If you could see your face, it would be no surprise to see that it’s stuck in what people like to call your “game face.” Your peripheral vision is pretty much shot at this point, all your attention selectively focused on the screen in front of you.

If you could see out of the corner of your eye you’d see your bunny boyfriend pouting like a child. His arms are crossed and his hands are gripping them so hard there’d be bruises if he were human. He’s buried himself into the plush couch so much that the poor cushion probably won’t ever forget his body shape. On top of that from his pelvis down he’s mostly off the couch due to his slouching. If you had been paying attention he’s sure you’d be teasing him about bad posture. Since you aren’t, he’s filling the relative silence with scheming instead. An evil little grin stretches across his face as his plotting reaches its peak.

You’re so absorbed in the pixels of the screen that his weight disappearing from the couch doesn’t bother you at all. The dim lighting means that even when he creeps up to the TV you can hardly see him. Your unhealthy level of focus does allow you to take notice when the screen turns black though. The boss room and all your progress turn into nothing in an instant. Even though the room is dark, your face is glowing with red hot rage. The only things you can see are Toy Bonnie’s bright green eyes illuminating his malicious face.

He saunters up to you and leans on your knees to really get in close to your face, “no one likes a try-hard, sweetie.” With that he walks out of the room without even turning on the light.

Knowing that your only way out at this time of night is the Freddy mask that he was supposed to get when you were ready to leave keeps you in the break room. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what position you’re in and doesn’t want you to get back at him after he leaves. If you know him well enough, he’s going to come back to you after you’ve cooled down and butter you up into forgiving him. You can’t do much else but mutter the same thing you do almost every time he does things like this. “Blue bastard,” you curse to an empty room.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow look I can do family friendly stuff too!


End file.
